


Short Handers Drabble

by SerSparklefingers



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Drabble, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 07:05:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4253979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerSparklefingers/pseuds/SerSparklefingers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Anders responds to Hawke's advances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Short Handers Drabble

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short drabble I wrote one evening.
> 
> Edit: Now with a fan art from Opallight from tumblr! Thanks ever so much <3

 

The afternoon light shone glaringly through the high windows of the clinic in Darktown, motes of dust drifting lazily by. It had been a quiet day, perfect to strip and wash the bed linen, wrap bandages and organize the shelves in one of the back rooms. Anders didn’t expect Hawke to come stumbling through the door, blood dripping from his nose and a jagged gash across his torso.

“Makers’ breath, Hawke! You stood here and told me you didn’t need a healer with you this time and, of course, I was foolish enough to believe you.” He muttered, hands poking and prodding the freshly closed wound, quietly pleased with how neatly it had healed. “Lying to ease my mind is still lying.”

“Look at you, fussing over me like a mother hen. One would almost think you had feelings for me.” Hawke grinned, trying not to squirm as Anders’ fingers continued their assault on his still tender flesh.

“Oh of course. My heart beats only for you, Garrett Hawke.” He snorted, trying to sound as casual as he possibly could. The flirtatious comments had begun from their very first meeting. Anders briefly remembered Hawke questioning him about his relationship with Karl, Maker rest his soul, admitting that he hadn’t considered Anders with other men. Yet he managed to remember, with startling clarity and no small measure of embarrassment, that he had rather brazenly told Hawke he could imagine him in as much detail as he fancied. And of course, Hawke being Hawke, had latched on to Anders’ flirtatious comment and had been plaguing him with suggestive innuendos ever since. Not that Anders particularly minded. Hawke certainly cut a striking figure, handsome and muscular and the product of many a torturous dream that Anders constantly reminded himself to forget about because really, who would want anything with an apostate? Yet he didn’t see any harm in letting himself admire from a safe distance.

“Alright, you should be fine. I recommend that you rest yourself for a few days but I know you never take any heed of me.” He smiled, still crouched in front of Hawke and having to gaze up at him to look him in the eye. He hadn’t realized when he had let his arms rest on Hawke’s well defined thighs, dangerously close and startled by the intense look that was being directed at him. Hawke’s eyes held an emotion Anders couldn’t bear to acknowledge. It only led to trouble and heartache. Hawke, however, was oblivious to Anders’ inner turmoil and reached out a warm hand to caress his jaw, thumb tracing the light stubble there. Hawke trailed his thumb to rub softly across Anders’ lips, causing the blond’s breath to hitch, pushing those lips apart and feeling the mouth before him opening and accepting the touch. Anders’ breath came fast and urgent against Hawke’s hand, cheeks flushing and hair almost glowing gold in the afternoon light filtering in to the clinic. He pushed his thumb further into the warm mouth and felt a flicker of tongue against it, a tentative taste and permission to continue.

“Hawke, I don’t…” Anders began, heart fluttering wildly in his chest. Whether from fear or anticipation, he couldn’t tell, nor could he stand to acknowledge.

“Don’t you?” he questioned, stroking his fingers across Anders’ stubbled jaw and watching his blush deepen. “I’ve caught you looking more than once. I’d be more than willing to do whatever you asked.” He saw Anders swallow convulsively, watching an array of emotions flit across his face before pulling him closer. “Come here. Unless you want to stay on your knees?” he added, roguish smirk gracing his handsome features and making Anders flush from head to toe.

Gently placing a hand on his cheek, Anders levelled his gaze with Hawke and spoke calmly but urgently, wracked with guilt at what he was about to do. The touch was soft, and magic rippled the air slightly as Anders tapped in to Hawke’s mind, planting his message. “Listen to me. You are now fit and healthy and I have just asked you to go home and rest for the next few days. I am very dull, very boring, scrawny and unattractive and you want nothing more than to put your armour back on and go home to you bed to sleep off the day’s exhaustion.”

Immediately, Hawke’s eyes lost their earlier fire and became dull, lifeless. Anders felt his stomach twist, guilty for playing with the man’s mind like some common trickster who conned old women and young lovers out of their money by offering a palm reading or some such rubbish in order to addle their thoughts and take off with their money.

“Yes, I’m terribly exhausted.” Hawke repeated, a yawn forcing itself from his mouth as he stood, eager to be away from the drab, pokey little clinic with the scrawny scarecrow of a man before him. “Thanks again, Anders. I’ll definitely make sure to bring you along to the Bone Pit next time.” He smiled, rolling the stiffness out of his shoulders and reaching for his shirt.

“Of course, whatever you need.” Anders mumbled, trying to force the colour from his cheeks and hiding his face in some menial task not too far away. It was only when the clinic door closed behind Hawke that he let the sickening guilt wash over him. What he had done was utterly shameful, playing with a man’s thoughts. He was despicable, abusing his powers in such a base fashion, but his heart couldn’t take another battering. Not after Karl. The wounds from their last meeting were still attempting to heal, old feelings itching and reopening like a scab being picked at when boredom allowed the mind to wander. It was for the best. However, the sick, sinking feeling in his chest suggested otherwise.


End file.
